


Only Me and You

by zjofierose



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Christmas, Drunkenness, Holidays, Light Angst, M/M, Miscommunication
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:41:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27963215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zjofierose/pseuds/zjofierose
Summary: between the bushes of rosewhen the moment frozebeneath the mistletoe of Christmas Eveon a bench only for twowe are sitting in each other's companyonly me and you~shruti jaiswal
Relationships: Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky
Comments: 21
Kudos: 17
Collections: Otayuriadvent2020





	Only Me and You

**Author's Note:**

> Written as part of the Superfan Otayuri Advent Calendar, hooray! Sorry to post only the first chapter today, more is coming soon!
> 
> many thanks to @seventhstar for looking it over <3
> 
> also, NB: for anyone who is like me and is super squicked by regurgitation, there is brief mention of being, ehm, too drunk, at the end of this first chapter, but it is _brief_.

For some ungodly reason, JJ decides to get married on Christmas Eve.

Yuri would not give two fucks about this, except that he’s invited. 

He would not give two fucks about  _ that _ if it weren’t for the fact that literally the  _ entire _ international figure skating community is going to be there, and Yuri hates feeling left out. 

Ergo, he grumbles his way through a suit fitting (“ _ Come on, Yura, you’re seventeen, it’s time you owned a properly tailored suit” _ ), a gift-buying ( _ “I don’t know why they don’t have any cat-themed patterns in their registry, Yura, but I’m sure if you wanted to make a donation in their name to a cat rescue, they’d appreciate it _ ”), and twenty-four hours of traveling (“ _ Yuri Nikolaivich Plisetsky, if you don’t sit still I will eject you from the emergency exit, so help me _ ”) and finds himself jetlagged and irritable in a hotel in Canada.

The wedding is the very next day - the various skaters all have to get back ASAP for various national competitions, including Yuri himself - so the schedule has crammed it all in tight. Rehearsal dinner the night everyone gets in; rehearsal itself first thing in the morning; then pictures, then wedding, then reception. The one pm wedding will feel like it’s in the evening to all the Europeans, but Yuri feels worse for the Asian crowd, he really does - the whole thing’s going to be like one long fever dream to them. 

The hotel is huge, ostentatious, and exactly what you’d expect from  _ JJ Style _ . It’s in the middle of downtown, and decked out for Christmas with what must be a small forest of evergreen trees and boughs. Lights and glittering decorations are everywhere, and walking through the lobby had nearly given Yuri a migraine before he’d managed to get himself checked in. The mattress is too soft and the room is too big and he needs to shower off the travel funk but he doesn’t want to get off the bed and-

“Yura?” The voice at the door is soft so as not to wake him if he were asleep, but Yuri flings himself off the bed and across the room. He wrenches open the door, wincing as it crashes into the wall but refocusing immediately on the figure before him.

“Beka!” Yuri wraps his arms around Otabek’s shoulders and squeezes tight, grinning so hard his cheeks hurt. It’s only been two weeks since they saw each other at the Grand Prix Final, but it was months of separation before that, and there’s never anything quite like seeing each other in person. 

Otabek laughs, gripping Yuri back with his strong arms. “You smell like layover.”

Yuri snorts. “Yeah, sorry. Haven’t showered yet. Wanna come in?”

“Nah,” Otabek’s refusal is soft, and Yuri forces himself not to take it personally. “I need to go take my own shower and find some food. Just wanted to say hi before I did.”

Yuri nods. “You’ll be at the dinner.”

“Yeah. We both better hurry, though, it starts in a half hour.”

“Shit.” Yuri scrubs a hand across his forehead. “I have no idea what time it is.”

Otabek grimaces sympathetically, then pushes Yuri back into his room. “Go shower. I’ll see you down there soon.”

“Yeah.” Yuri can’t help but smile even as he lets the door start to close. “See you.”

\--

It’s been two years since the Hero of Kazakhstan kidnapped the Russian Fairy and rode him off into the sunset on his bike. They’ve been fast friends ever since, texting and video-calling and even sending actual letters and packages (all Otabek, if Yuri’s honest). There’s no one in the world save his grandfather that Yuri likes better or respects more, not even Victor or Katsudon. He  _ trusts _ Otabek; trusts him with his anger and his pride and his fears and his joys. And Otabek trusts him in return - they have each other’s backs, and Yuri considers meeting Otabek Altin (re-meeting Otabek Altin) to be the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

He slides into the chair next to Otabek in the hotel dining room, hair still wet against the back of his neck, and smiles. Otabek’s hair is combed back, darker than usual with the combination of water and gel. Yuri can smell the subtle spice of his cologne over the rising scent of food, and maybe he’s just overtired, but it goes straight to his head and makes him want to bury his face in Otabek’s collar and hang on like they’re flying through the streets of Barcelona all over again.

“Yura,” Otabek greets softly, his voice carrying in spite of the din around them, and Yuri feels goosebumps rising on his skin.

It must be a breeze, he decides. He should have put on a hoodie before he came down. 

\--

He’s nearly asleep in his dinner plate by the time the rehearsal dinner is over. Victor digs an elbow into his side and Yuri manages to stand with the others and stagger his way upstairs. Otabek walks him to his room while Yuuri and Victor disappear into the door across the hall. They stand, staring, outside the door to Yuri’s room before he abruptly remembers that he has to use a keycard to unlock it. 

Otabek smiles as Yuri fumbles with the plastic, finally slipping it into the slot so that the light turns green and the lock clicks open.

“Good night, Yura,” he says, and Yuri nods, words not coming to him in any language right now. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Night, Beka,” Yuri manages, watching blearily as Otabek turns away.

\--

The next day is a blur. 

Otabek is in the wedding party, so he has to get up early and attend the rehearsal and be in the photos, which Yuri doesn’t envy him one bit. For his part, Yuri doesn’t sleep particularly well, but he does sleep some and wakes feeling a little more with it around ten am to the sound of Victor banging on his door. 

“Come on, Yura! Get showered and dressed, they want to take some photos of all the skaters together before the service!”

“Fuck,” Yuri mutters fervently, stumbling out of bed and to the door. Victor’s smile is sunny even with the faint bags under his eyes. He’s already dressed in an immaculate white tie suit with gleaming cufflinks and perfectly shined shoes. “How long do I have?”

“Forty minutes!” Victor holds out his hand. “Give me your clothes, I’ll press them while you’re in the shower.”

Yuri hands them over without argument, along with his spare room key, and flings himself into the shower. He doesn’t have time to get his hair all the way dry, but he’s made Lilia teach him what to do with it as it's grown longer over the past few years, so he throws it into a fashionably messy coronet and shaves. 

Victor’s done by the time Yuri hustles out of the bathroom in a cloud of deodorant and cologne and shoves himself into the waiting suit. Tie around his neck and cufflinks in his pocket, he steps out the door and heads downstairs with not a moment to spare. 

\---

Predictably for a wedding, things are a little behind schedule, and Yuri finds himself leaning against the back wall of the nearby church with a clump of other skaters. Victor and Yuuri are hobnobbing with the others, or rather, Victor is, while Yuuri stands at his elbow and looks faintly awkward, so Yuri lets himself watch as the wedding party gets sorted into various groups and positions and combinations and photographed endlessly.

It’s the first wedding Yuri’s been to since he was a very small child, and while it holds no particular appeal to him emotionally, he finds it interesting to watch from a purely production standpoint. It’s not dissimilar to any theatrical production, which is what all of their skates are on some level anyway, and he lets himself fall into a lull as he watches the bridal party in all their finery posing endlessly before the fancy backdrops.

“They look good, don’t they,” Mila comments from beside him, making Yuri jump. “Izzy did a good job.”

Yuri follows the direction of her gaze to where Sara stands in a sleek-cut dark violet bridesmaid dress at Isabella’s elbow. Mila might as well be drooling. 

He snorts. “Sure, if that’s what you’re into.”

“Oh, come now,” Mila grins at him, “just because you’re not interested doesn’t mean you can’t appreciate the aesthetics.” 

Yuri rolls his eyes. “Your trophy girlfriend looks very pretty, Mila. Happy?”

“Delighted,” she purrs. “Otabek looks pretty good himself.”   


“ _ Hnh _ ?” Yuri’s head snaps up, his hackles rising as Mila puts a finger to her lips and contemplates Otabek in his three-piece suit. “Stop looking at him,  _ baba _ , he’s too good for you.”

MIla just laughs and rubs her head against his as he shoves at her in vain. “I don’t know, Yuri, I think he’s too good for you, too. But look - he’s so grown-up now, with those broad shoulders and that sharp jaw and-”

Yuri drags her out of the room and into the foyer so as not to cause a disruption when he punches her in the arm. See, Victor? He’s mature. He can behave. 

\--

The wedding goes off without a hitch. Yuri’s in the second row at the end on Isabella’s side; JJ’s family takes up four pews just on their own, but apparently Isabella’s is small, so she gets all the skaters that aren’t in the bridal party as honorary “cousins”. 

It’s a nice wedding, as these things go, Yuri supposes. The decorations are all holiday themed, and they go nicely with the bridal party’s deep purple and black. The winter sunlight streams through the high windows of the church, lending a brilliance to the surroundings that’s going to look terrific in the photos. The music is nice, the sermon doesn’t go on for too long; JJ only cries a little bit, which Yuri decides is allowed.

Yuri stays awake through the whole thing, which he feels rather proud about, considering how warm it is in the church and how off-kilter his whole body is right now. There is a long moment in the middle where he loses some time as he watches Beka where he stands behind one of JJ’s brothers, his hands folded quietly behind his back. Mila was right, Yuri thinks bitterly - Otabek looks like a real adult these days. His hair still has that boyish curl, but the sharp, fresh, lines of his undercut and the dark slash of his eyebrows give him a gravitas beyond his years. He hasn’t grown much taller since they met, still a full head shorter than JJ and his brothers, but with a man’s frame and an athlete’s build. The deep violet of the tie and vest compliment his coloring, making his skin appear more tan and his eyes more grey. His jaw is strong, his lips full but firm, and Yuri can imagine without even trying what the heat of his skin smells like.

He comes to himself when everyone rises to sing, fumbling at the hymnal in front of him and pulling himself belatedly upright. 

\--

Otabek’s stuck in the receiving line for the beginning of the reception, so Yuri grabs a plate of food and a glass of champagne and heads for the corner table. Katsudon’s already holding down one side of it while Victor schmoozes with their peers, and Yuri thunks his plate down without a word. Katsuki side eyes the glass of champagne but doesn’t actually say anything, so Yuri chugs it and sets it aside for one of the wandering waiters to grab, then applies himself to the food.

One glass of champagne turns into several, because Victor is still schmoozing and Otabek is still hand-shaking. Honestly, Yuri thinks, he is never getting married, not if it means he has to stand in a line and talk to people for an hour and a half in pinchy shoes. Even the free food isn’t worth that.

Still, the champagne is nice, and while he knows enough not to try and keep up with Katsuki, who is well into bored-drunk and has lost both jacket and tie, Yuri snags another and downs it, letting the bubbles tickle his nose and make him hiccup.

By the time Otabek turns up, Yuri is… he’s not drunk. He’s been drunk,  _ thank-you-very-much last year’s Feltsman-Baronovskaya New Year’s bash _ . But he is definitely warm. Possibly tipsy. Maybe solidly into inebriated. The point is, his cheeks are flushed and his collar is undone, and he flings himself around Otabek’s shoulders with delight and maybe a little too much momentum.

“Beka,” he thinks he might be shouting a little, but it’s loud in here. “I missed you!”

There’s the quiet chuckle in his ear that’s so familiar, and Yuri wants to melt against his friend. He smells just as good as Yuri knew he would, and his arms where he’s keeping Yuri upright are incredibly stable. 

“Yuri,” Otabek’s voice is amused, “who let you into the champagne?”

“Victor has been gone  _ so _ long,” Yuri whines, pointing at Katsuki, who now has his head down on the table and might be asleep, “just look at him! But the waiters are very nice.” He wriggles free of Otabek’s hold and yanks on his hand. “Come on, Beka,  _ you’ve _ been gone so long, too! Come dance with me!”

As if on cue, the band strikes up a new number, fast and bright. Having Katsudon around has forced Yuri to up his dance skills across the board or suffer repeated humiliating defeat, so he can now identify this as west-coast swing and drag Otabek to the floor. 

He sets Otabek’s hands on his waist and hits position, grinning wide and shoving at the tendrils falling from his crown of hair. There’s a look on Otabek’s face that he can’t quite recognize, but Yuri doesn’t care. This is enough - just to be here, with his dearest friend, having fun.

He waits for the beat to drop, and starts to move.

\--

Yuri loses track of time. 

The music is loud, and the champagne keeps flowing, and Otabek is dancing with him. The room is a whirl of bright colors and laughing faces, sparkling decorations and spinning bodies, and Yuri loses himself to it, giving himself over utterly to the rushing in his head and the roaring in his ears. 

He remembers stopping to have some cake, a decadent slice of maple-flavored sponge with a sharp and tangy frosting. He remembers making fun of Victor and Yuuri, who are so wrapped up (literally and figuratively) in each other that they have to be dragged off the floor when it’s time for toasting. 

He remembers getting too hot, and Otabek guiding him to one of the large glass doors that opens onto a balcony off the ballroom. It’s decorated out there, too, huge wreaths with carefully uniform red velvet bows; a life size sleigh covered in boughs of holly; glistening icicle lights that hang from the edges of the railings. 

Yuri stumbles, his dancing grace utterly gone in the face of the cold and lack of a rhythm to carry him. Otabek catches him without missing a beat, pulling Yuri close and holding him steady. Yuri smiles, reaching a hand up to cup around the curve of Otabek’s cheek. 

“The decorations are pretty,” Yuri tells him seriously, “like you.”

Otabek’s eyes are dark, glimmering with the reflection of a hundred sparkling holiday lights. He steadies Yuri against him, then brings up a hand to tip Yuri’s chin up, directing his gaze above them. 

There’s something hanging there, another decoration - green and shrubby, and Yuri squints, trying to put it together, when suddenly Otabek’s mouth is on his. 

It’s confusing, and Yuri tries to take a breath, but then Otabek’s tongue is there, and how did that happen? The world is spinning, and Yuri can’t figure out quite why Otabek’s mouth is in the way when he’s just trying to catch his breath, so he pushes back on Otabek’s shoulders, hard, with a sudden urgency as he clears his throat. 

He barely has time to process the expression of what looks like devastation on Otabek’s face before he leans forward and yaks all over Otabek’s shiny dress shoes.

He doesn’t remember anything after that.  
  



End file.
